


Beautiful Strange

by nu_breed



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-17
Updated: 2006-11-17
Packaged: 2017-12-08 10:25:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nu_breed/pseuds/nu_breed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean never goes to sleep first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beautiful Strange

**Author's Note:**

> Huge, ginormous thanks to the fabulous [](http://alwayseven.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://alwayseven.livejournal.com/)**alwayseven** for the beta.

Late-night television is tedious, but it helps Dean stay awake. As long as he has something to focus on, he’s never the first to fall asleep.

Dean can’t remember when it started, but for months now, he’s kept watch, keeping his eyes locked on Sam as he drifts into sleep. It takes a while, motel beds don’t carry Sam’s height well and Dean watches him intently, feet hanging awkwardly over the edge as Sam twitches restlessly, trying to get comfortable.

When Sam finally gets to sleep, his breathing is shallow, stilted and Dean can see his brow beaded with sweat.

Sam sometimes cries in his sleep, so quietly that it’s almost imperceptible. Dean hears it though, the sobs cutting through the heavy silence of the room. It makes Dean’s chest ache.

He thinks the nightmares, visions, whatever, started way before Jessica; Dean remembers being woken up when Sam was thirteen, woken by screams that made Dean’s blood run cold. Sam would be thrashing around on the bed, like he was trying to stop something from hurting him. Dean would shake him roughly, shake him awake and Sam’s eyes would glaze over like he had no idea where he even was. Dean would sit up with Sam, spinning shit about all the girls he’d made out with that week. Sam would roll his eyes and laugh, and Dean would try very hard to ignore the fact that Sam’s cheeks were stained with tears.

He hadn't thought anything of it then, because really? They all had nightmares; it came with their completely fucked-up lives. Dean’s always involved fire or cold hands clutching at him, pulling him down through the mattress and he’d always wake up, sheets soaked with perspiration. So yeah, it didn't mean Sam was special, or nothing.

Now he knows better.

It’s different now, for both of them. Sam remembers everything he sees in his sleep. Remembers every face, remembers their pain and their fear and Dean knows it’s killing Sam. Hurting him far more than the headaches that Dean helps to wash away with Advil and tap-water.

Dean can’t imagine what it must be like to have to live with it every day. It’s bad enough that they see the things they see, but it’s not like Sam just _sees_ when he has the visions now.

"I felt it."

Dean remembers how fucking exhausted Sam was the first time he admitted it to Dean. He sounded so tired and jaded and all Dean could think of was that this wasn't his baby brother anymore, all he could focus on was how _old_ Sam looked and sounded and if Dean could've put himself in Sam's place, he would have.

This isn't what was meant to happen. Sam was supposed to be the one who escaped. The one who got to live the normal life. Dean hated him just a little for wanting it, but he wouldn't have taken it away from him. Not for a fucking second.

But that’s all gone now. Sam, the kid-lawyer is a world away from this Sam. This Sam is broken and cynical and this isn't how it was supposed to be.

Dean sometimes wishes he could see inside Sam’s head so at least he knew what he was dealing with, but there’s part of him that’s petrified of what he’d find there. Dean’s used to protecting Sam, but he doesn't know if he can protect Sam from himself.

Sam never cries when he’s awake now. His tears sit behind his eyes like a fucking brick wall and Dean wants to smash it down.

***

The first time Sam kisses him, Dean assumes it doesn't mean anything. They’re shit faced-drunk, in their motel room in Milwaukee and Sam’s practically falling over, his freakishly-long limbs chopping the air like a fucking windmill. Dean tries to hold him in place, standing anchored and Sam just flails against him before regaining his balance.

Sam presses his face against Dean’s and kisses him once. It only lasts a second before Sam pulls away and falls onto his bed, face-first.

Dean can’t quite fathom why he’s not surprised.

He scalds his lips on his cup of coffee the next morning, but Dean swears he can still feel the outline of Sam there.

***

*

"Dean?" Sam’s voice sounds like sandpaper, rough and raspy, in the dark. Dean stays death-still, not moving.

"Do you think people like us can ever be happy?"

Dean pretends he’s asleep. The back of his throat tastes like bile.

***

Sam wakes with a yell and Dean’s out of bed before he even has time to process that he’s awake.

He flips on the light and Sam is sitting up, head in his hands.

"Does it hurt?" He asks, as he passes Sam a glass of water.

Sam mutters, "Always" and Dean brushes sweat-drenched hair from Sam's forehead. Dean pulls back as Sam turns his head and rubs his cheek against Deans’ hand; it feels warm and flawless, just like Dean imagined it would.

When Sam brushes his lips against Dean’s palm, Dean tries to move away. He tries to engage his brain, motor skills, anything, but he’s rooted to the spot and he feels like he’s drowning.

Sam’s kisses are fast and hot and desperate and Dean moans soft and hungry as Sam’s tongue pushes into his mouth. Sam tastes like bourbon and tears and Dean flinches as Sam reaches for his cock with large hands.

"Sammy. I..."

"Shhh." Sam’s voice hitches and he strokes Dean slow and long and perfect. "Just let me, okay? Don’t... don’t make me stop."

Dean doesn’t. He _can’t_ and it’s too much, too good and too damn fast. He comes in no time at all, faster than a teenager, moaning into Sam’s mouth as his body shakes uncontrollably.

Sam’s fringe is in his eyes and Dean brushes it away. Sam’s told Dean he wants to cut his hair, but Dean likes it like this. It’s messy and youthful and the opposite of this new Sam who’s different in ways that Dean can’t comprehend right now.

He opens his mouth to talk, but he’s scared of what might come out if he does, so he presses his lips to Sam’s neck instead.

Dean goes to sleep with Sam wrapped around him like a promise.

 

 

end


End file.
